


Let Me Turn to Sand

by unlessyoudreamofme



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Free! Eternal Summer, Free! Kink Meme, Gen, Hospitals, I am in the ninth circle of SouRin hell, M/M, Makoto brings flowers because OF COURSE Makoto would bring flowers, Post episode 10, every day I thank god for Seijuuro, sourin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2260911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlessyoudreamofme/pseuds/unlessyoudreamofme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or: thirteen things that matter in a hospital stay</p><p>Sousuke is alone in the arctic landscape of his hospital room—white floor, white walls, white bedsheets—when he hears a polite knock. It’s more of a courtesy than a request for permission, apparently, because by the time he turns his head, the entire Iwatobi team and their manager are attempting to squeeze through the narrow doorway at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Turn to Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme fill. The prompt can be found [here](http://iwatobiswimclub.dreamwidth.org/2701.html?thread=3385485#cmt3385485).

**[one]**

Sousuke knows almost right away that his shoulder is worse than it’s ever been.

Without adrenaline singing through his veins, the pain is brutal: deep and hard and thudding, blazing with the tiniest movement. The strain of the relay, of swimming that hard, has done something terrible, ripped something loose. There’s no hiding his injury, not anymore. The skin of his shoulder is red and angry-looking, obviously inflamed, and he knows he’s got pain written into every line of his body.

So when the Samezuka coaches converge on him at the pool, muttering to one another about driving directions to the nearest hospital, Sousuke doesn’t put up much of a fight.

He’s ignored the protests of his body for years. For once, he’s going to listen.

* * *

 

**[two]**

Someone calls his parents. His father’s at work, so his mother is the one who shows up and sits with him all through the explanation, blinking rapidly, like she can’t quite absorb the information. He knows what she’s going to say before she says it.

Words like: _Sousuke, you promised you’d take it easy. Sousuke, you know better. Sousuke—_

The doctor walks them through what happens next. It’s an open-and-shut case, his shoulder, only one course of action left. Sousuke’s head is in a bit of a daze—that well-earned painkiller they gave him is doing its job—but he catches the important parts.

Words like: _Complete tear of the rotator cuff. Surgery. With your history of shoulder problems, there’s likely a buildup of scar tissue, as well, but it’s impossible to know for sure until—_

* * *

 

**[three]**

Funny thing is, Sousuke finds that he just doesn’t have it in him to be disappointed or heartbroken or any of the things you’re supposed to be when your future crumbles like a sandcastle—rather, when it finally finishes crumbling and the tide sweeps it away, as if it never was.

It’s a career-ending injury, but it’s not like he didn’t see this coming. It’s been over for a long time. This is just the last in a long string of catastrophes. By now, what he feels is mostly exhaustion and that familiar pain in his shoulder.

* * *

 

**[four]**

It’s been an endless cycle. Rehab and reinjury. Rehab and reinjury. Push through the pain. Go faster, faster, faster—

But that’s done now. And there’s something to be said for that.

One surgery. One last stint of physical therapy. A few more months, if all goes well, and he should at least be functional. He won’t have his shoulder back, not completely, but he should be able to do the everyday things: dressing and bathing and reaching for items on the top shelf at the supermarket. He’ll be able to live with it.

That’s the important thing. Right?

* * *

 

**[five]**

Sousuke is alone in the arctic landscape of his hospital room—white floor, white walls, white bedsheets—when he hears a polite knock. It’s more of a courtesy than a request for permission, apparently, because by the time he turns his head, the entire Iwatobi team and their manager are attempting to squeeze through the narrow doorway at once.

“We came as soon as we heard,” says Tachibana, by way of explanation, and it’s then that Sousuke notices he’s holding a bunch of flowers—white, like everything else in the room. He starts to unpeel the cellophane wrapping from the stalks, smiling benignly. “We wanted to see how you’re doing, Yamazaki-san.”

“And _I_ wanted to find out what possessed you to swim with your shoulder like that!” Gou’s whole face is worked into a mask of stern disapproval as she marches toward his bed. Sousuke doesn’t laugh at her seriousness, but it’s a near thing. “What were you thinking? I ought to—”

Hazuki looks positively scandalized. “He’s in the _hospital,_ Gou-chan! You can’t _lecture_ people while they’re in the _hospital—”_

Gou squawks. “It’s _Kou,_ you little—”

“—even if they _have_ seriously endangered some of their muscles,” Hazuki continues, undeterred. “You don’t just start in on bedridden people. It’s indecent! And anyway, we have to give Sou-chan his presents first.”

Sousuke is still trying to wrap his head around the series of events that might’ve brought the Iwatobi swimmers to his bedside—and pondering the cosmic implications of Hazuki calling him _Sou-chan_ —but he’s snapped back to the present when Hazuki drops a bag in his lap, beaming. It’s full of snacks, probably bought at the _conbini_ around the corner from the hospital.

Before Sousuke has a chance to comment or question, Ryugazaki adjusts his glasses, steps forward very pointedly and produces an envelope, proffering it with a little flourish. A get-well card. Imagine that. Sousuke doesn’t look inside just yet, but he imagines that Ryugazaki’s handwriting is probably impeccable.

“From one butterflyer to another, Yamazaki-san,” Ryugazaki says.

Sousuke doesn’t say that he’s not a butterflyer anymore. He just reaches out with the arm that isn’t immobilized by a sling and says, “I appreciate it. You didn’t have to come by.”

“We’re happy to,” Tachibana says, without hesitation. “A friend of Rin’s is—”

He stops short, blinking, when Nanase chooses that moment to edge around him, take the flowers from his hands and make for the bedside table, where a clear plastic vase sits empty. His hands full, he begins to putter around the room, apparently looking for the sink. When he spots it a moment later, he sets about filling the vase with water, his back turned to the rest of them.

Tachibana sighs and smiles some sort of bemused _what-can-you-do_ smile. That just makes Sousuke wonder what _can_ actually be done about Nanase. He hasn’t forgotten his display during the 100-meter freestyle. To have so much ability and no drive—

“What kind of team manager did you have at your old school, anyway, Sousuke-kun?” Gou demands, hands on her hips. “What kind of coaches? They should be fired! Letting you overwork yourself like that, to the point that you destroyed your—” She stops short, one hand whipping up to cover her mouth.

Everyone gets quiet then, even Hazuki. The only sound is the water running in the sink. _To the point that you destroyed your shoulder._

“I’m sorry, Sousuke-kun,” Gou mumbles, between her fingers. Her face is flaming. “I shouldn’t say things like that.”

He makes himself smile. “It’s all right,” he says mildly. “It’s true. I did this to myself.”

Across the room, Nanase shuts off the faucet with a sharp, jerky motion of his hand. He pads over to set the vase on the bedside table, somehow managing to do so without quite looking at Sousuke. Little bubbles gather along the stalks of the flowers, like dewdrops. A single bead of water slides down the outside of the vase. Sousuke watches its descent—slow, inexorable, all the way down.

Tachibana clears his throat. “We should probably let Yamazaki-san get some rest.”

Gou nods in agreement. She reaches out to touch Sousuke’s arm, so lightly, as if he’ll shatter if she applies too much pressure. Sousuke’s not used to this: being the fragile one.

But then she smiles and says, “Get well, Sousuke-kun,” and he knows she’s coming from a good place. That’s worth something.

Then she claps her hands together and starts to usher the Iwatobi team toward the door. Hazuki needs a little encouragement, but in the end, he goes. It’s Nanase who lags behind a few steps. Sousuke sits up straighter, watching him.

“Hey, Nanase.”

Nanase stops, half-turns, as the rest of his team disappears into the corridor. His expression is as impassive as ever, but his eyes are very dark.

“Swim hard,” Sousuke tells him, quiet but firm. “Stop wasting what you’ve got. Rin—”

“I know,” Nanase says. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Sousuke thinks he means that, so he doesn’t try. For a second, they just look at each other. Then Nanase’s gone.

* * *

 

**[six]**

For a while, Sousuke stares out the window. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice before, but it’s a beautiful day.

* * *

 

**[seven]**

“What’s the room number, again?”

“The lady at reception said it was this way, I think…”

“It should be right around here—ah! Come on, boys! Here we go!”

* * *

 

**[eight]**

The first thing Sousuke registers is bright orange hair and a flash of white teeth. Mikoshiba Seijuuro bursts into the room, followed by a veritable sea of boys in black Samezuka sweatshirts. After a great deal of jostling, what looks like the entire swim team is jammed into Sousuke’s hospital room, which is now woefully over-capacity. Sousuke scans the crowd for Rin’s tell-tale hair, but doesn’t see him.

“Yamazaki!” Mikoshiba bellows. “That was one hell of a stunt you pulled!”

Sousuke pauses—because, well, it _was_ a hell of a stunt, swimming injured like that. It was hugely irresponsible. It was a million things, most of them bad, but it was one thing most of all. He inclines his head and says, “It was worth it.”

Mikoshiba just grins, like that’s exactly what he’d hoped Sousuke would say, and claps his big hands together. At the cue, the Samezuka swimmers all cup their hands around their mouths and shout the cheer that’s familiar to Sousuke by now: _“IIZO IIZO YAMAZAKI U-OHHH!”_

* * *

 

**[nine]**

That cheer is for swimmers who win, something Sousuke’s never done for Samezuka, something Sousuke will never do for anyone again.

* * *

 

**[ten]**

At first, all Sousuke can think is that this whole situation is absurd, really, because Mikoshiba was never his captain, never had a reason to feel any sort of investment in him, they don’t even _know_ each other—and yet he’s corralled the swim team into this little white room, all because Sousuke chose today to finish wrecking his shoulder.

They’re strange creatures, these Samezuka swimmers.

“You just missed Gou,” Sousuke says, because the whole gesture is so _much_ and he doesn’t have the words to match it. “She was here a little while ago.”

A sudden, despairing wail lets Sousuke know that Momo has been hidden somewhere near the back of the crush of swimmers. The elder Mikoshiba also seems struck by the news, but he manages a more dignified, nobly-dying-of-heartbreak sort of look.

“Yamazaki-senpai—” It’s Ai, wriggling between Minami and Uozumi and closer to the bed. He looks a little breathless and a little anxious. “How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s…” For a second, Sousuke’s not sure what to tell him. Then he schools his features into the same smile he gave Gou. “It just needs some work done. I’ll be fine. You did really well today, Ai. You’ve improved a lot. I don’t think I told you.”

Ai looks like he might collapse under the weight of that praise. “Thank you, Yamazaki-senpai! It’s all because of your coaching.”

“No,” Sousuke tells him, thoughtfully. “It’s all because of your hard work.”

* * *

 

**[eleven]**

That’s when a passing nurse notices the overflow of teenage boys that have spilled into the corridor, does a double-take, sticks her head inside the room, and promptly kicks everyone out.

Even so, it takes a while to get through all the parting _get-well-soons._ And maybe that’s not so bad.

* * *

 

**[twelve]**

When the team has cleared out, Rin’s leaning in the doorway, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking like he’s been standing there all his life. He smiles. “Thought they’d never leave.”

* * *

 

**[thirteen]**

Each step from the doorway to the bed seems to take a lifetime. When Rin’s finally standing over Sousuke, he drops his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Sousuke says, and it’s reflex, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. “It barely hurts right now.”

“As if you would tell me anything else,” Rin mutters. “Che. All that time, pretending nothing was wrong…” He shakes his head as he lowers himself into the chair beside the bed. “What’d the doctor say?”

Sousuke thinks of what he said to Ai, and what he didn’t say to Gou, and what his mother said to him. “Torn rotator cuff,” he admits. “They’re going to operate in the morning.”

Rin stills, hands curled around the chair’s armrests. “That bad?”

If Sousuke could move his shoulders without pain, he would shrug. "Six weeks in a sling, probably."

Rin’s wince is small, almost imperceptible, but Sousuke catches it. “You’ll never swim again, will you? Not like you did.”

The moment floats. It feels like a long time before Sousuke can bring himself to shake his head. Gently, gently, he says, “That was the last time, Rin.”

“So it was the relay that did it.” Rin is gripping the armrests so tightly that Sousuke can see the tendons standing out in his forearms. He can also see that Rin’s shoulders are shaking. “I never should’ve let you swim.”

“You don’t have to cry about it,” Sousuke tells him—although, historically, telling Rin not to cry over something has proved to have little bearing on whether or not he actually does.

“I’m not crying!” Rin snaps, but his voice wavers on the last word. He ducks his head, hiding his eyes. “God, Sousuke.”

“I wanted to swim. I knew what I was doing. I knew what it meant. It’s okay, Rin.”

“Don’t say that.” Rin sniffles, loudly, his head still stubbornly bent. “Don’t talk like it doesn’t matter. It was your dream. All this time—”

Sousuke starts shaking his head. “All this time,” he says, “I was only trying to keep up with you.”

Rin makes a choking noise. “I told you it’s my fault—”

“No, Rin—” Out of habit, Sousuke moves to reach for Rin with his right hand and stops short, gasping as pain lances from his shoulder all the way down to his upper arm. The pain is hot and bright.

When he looks up, his eyes meet Rin’s, and if Rin wasn’t crying before, he’s definitely crying now: great, gulping sobs that make his whole body hitch. For a moment, Sousuke is stunned. All he can do is watch as Rin curls into himself like a wilting flower, folding his arms onto the bed next to Sousuke and burying his face in them. “Damn it, Sousuke—damn you, I—”

But whatever he wants to say, he can’t seem to get the words out.

Sousuke shifts and reaches out with his other arm, brushing his fingers over the back of Rin’s hand. Rin stiffens, but doesn’t look up. Then he shudders with another muffled sob.

“It’s only a shoulder, Rin,” Sousuke tells him, his voice pitched low, like Rin’s a cat he’s trying not to spook. He smoothes his hand down Rin’s arm, slowly, and then up again, over and over. “That’s all. The rest of me is still here.”

For a long time, there’s no sound but their breathing. Rin’s fingers are digging into the sheets. Sousuke can feel his heartbeat pulsing in his throat.

Finally, Rin mumbles, “The rest of you…”

Slowly, he lifts his head, and his fingers relax. His face is splotchy, his eyes red-rimmed. There’s something in those eyes that Sousuke can’t identify, but he doesn’t stop to analyze it. He just holds still as Rin rises from the chair, so slowly, and braces his hands on the bed. When he leans down, his arms are trembling, but they hold him up.

Rin brushes his lips against Sousuke’s forehead, brief and experimental, like he’s testing the water. And then he dips his head and kisses Sousuke on the mouth—just once, just gently. A butterfly kiss. “What time is your surgery tomorrow?”

At first, Sousuke is too dazed to answer. He’s caught up in the feeling of Rin’s mouth: warm, and softer than he would’ve imagined. “Seven, I think.”

Rin nods and moves to sit on the edge of the bed. “That’s when I’ll be here, then.”

“I won’t be out of surgery for an hour or two—”

“I’ll be here at seven,” Rin says, resolutely. That’s his team-captain voice, Sousuke realizes, and he feels a little swell of pride and a whole lot of fondness. “And I’ll come see you as soon as they’ll let me.” Abruptly, he furrows his brow. “But don’t expect me to start acting like your maid or something, just because you’re laid up.”

Sousuke blinks. “What?”

Rin’s voice is matter-of-fact. “You can have the bottom bunk when you come back to school, but that’s it.”

“What, no sponge baths?”

“Not in this life.”

Sousuke laughs. “I thought you’d jump at the chance to help me get dressed,” he says. “I’m supposed to keep my arm completely immobile, you know. For weeks.”

“That’s your problem.”

“I thought you were a romantic,” Sousuke complains.

“Only about swimming,” Rin says crisply, lifting his chin, but a dull red flush is climbing his cheekbones.

“Maybe that’s what I want from our promise, then. I haven’t used it up yet. You still owe me.”

Rin blinks at that. Frowns. Stands up. “We’ll talk about it in the morning,” he announces, “when you’re doped up on painkillers.”

Sousuke’s about to protest the inherent unfairness of that, but Rin’s bending down to kiss him goodbye, and for now, that’s more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: I did a little research on rotator cuff injuries, but I can’t really claim medical accuracy, so there’s that. Also, I took some liberty with Sousuke’s parents—that is, I operated under the assumption that, since Iwatobi is Sousuke’s hometown and he moved to Tokyo to attend what I gathered was a boarding school, his parents probably still live in Iwatobi. Roll with it, friends.
> 
> Anyway, this is my ridiculously fluffy and cheesy contribution to the SouRin tag. Rin and Sousuke make me want to die.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta, lulalou. Without her, this thing would be riddled with typos.
> 
> Also, the title is ripped from ["Long Highway"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6KzKr7kSTB4) by the Jezabels, who are, incidentally, my go-to band when I want to have SouRin feelings. Their music (like, weird Australian rock that sounds like it’s from the ‘80s) just has a certain vibe that reminds me of those two, I guess.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Come cry about SouRin with me: [unlessyoudreamofme.tumblr.com](http://unlessyoudreamofme.tumblr.com/)


End file.
